


It's all in the Cards- 6 of Swords/ The Devil/ 5 of Swords

by mphelmsman



Series: It's all in the Cards [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Feeding, John Takes Care Of Sherlock, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Military Kink, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Sensation Play, Sherlock Is Not Okay, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:04:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4425995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mphelmsman/pseuds/mphelmsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock flings himself into the Moriarty case and draws away from his lover. But John has some inventive ways to bring him out of his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's all in the Cards- 6 of Swords/ The Devil/ 5 of Swords

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to dog_mu for helping me with the Prime, Fibonacci, and binary numbers. Math is so not my thing but it's great to have a math genius around. 
> 
> Also I'm wondering if pictures of the cards for each part would be helpful. Let me know if you think I should arrange that.

_** 6 of Swords  
** _

 

_** Six of swords indicates traveling one one's thoughts. The human mind can at least conceive of infinity so it is not such a stretch to think that the human mind is infinite. Authors often carry whole universes in their minds while scientists probe at the universe every which way to discover it's secrets. Both will tell you that there is always something new to learn and/ or conceptualize. But if you contemplate this card further you can also see the danger of purely mental activity, that sometimes one can concentrate so much on what they are thinking that they lose their grasp on anything else. When this card is shown it is time to consider whether you are letting other things slide in a single minded pursuit of purely intellectual goals.  ** _

 

_** XV The Devil  ** _

 

_**This card, along with Death, is one of the most misunderstood and misrepresented of all the cards in the Major Arcana. It does not indicate evil so much as it indicates the dangers of mono-focusing; of being so obsessed with one goal or one way of doing things that you no longer consider any other options. This is often interpreted as an obsessive attachment to physical riches but in truth it can be an indication of over attachment to thoughts or ways of living as well. This card is as much the card of the fanatic who absolutely *knows* the one, true way as it is of the materialistic consumer. The key is to maintain a balance and a willingness to consider alternatives in every part of your life because just when you think you know all the answers you will likely find out that you never really knew anything at all. This is a dangerous card to show up in a reading but it isn't in anyway final in outcome. There is always time to open your mind to the other paths available.** _

 

_** 5 of Swords ** _

 

_** This card is best described in the quote; "the best plans of mice and men oft go astray". It is the card indicating thoughts of betrayal and abandonment or that one of those around you may betray or abandon you. Most definitely when this card shows it is time to consider that your first plan might not be the best and you had better have a backup plan. Several backup plans would be preferable because you can never tell which one might be the best to bring the outcome that is desired. The only certainty is that the plan already in place has already been invalidated; time to move on to the next. ** _

  
  
  


Once Sherlock received the files from Mycroft he dove into them with a will and felt his old enthusiasm for purely mental investigation take hold. He spent even more time contemplating the connections that the files showed him. He did take the time to show John the file that contained recent CCTV video of Mary leaving the flat she used to share; her body showing no signs of pregnancy. John viewed it with a subdued manner and Sherlock simply didn't know how to comfort him so he refocused on the only goal that mattered; eliminating the shadow of Moriarty once and for all. He was 80% certain that the man himself was dead, certainly there was paperwork detailing the discovery of a body on the roof of St. Bart's that day and it's subsequent cremation. But there were no autopsy record as the cause of death would have been obvious with half his skull shot away.

 

Still there had been incidents happening in London and elsewhere that he could have sworn bore the signature of the man's planning. Had he survived or had he left plans with people who had been so deeply buried that Sherlock had never found a trace of them. Whichever it was the sense of failure sank more deeply into his bones everyday. 

 

He knew, as he drew into himself, that John worried when he did not sleep and began to eat less and less. The thought that those two years of fighting the world had been a failure began to consume him. It wasn't the fact that digestion would slow his mind; it was the constant low level nausea caused by the fear that John was still in danger. The first few days he had tried to sleep; even tried to lose himself in the pleasure John brought to his body and soul; but as soon as his brave doctor fell into sleep the thought that he could be taken away any moment refused to let Sherlock rest. After trying to quiet his mind to sleep and failing for the third night running Sherlock stopped trying. He turned towards the the case files and let himself fall head long into them.

 

Doing that, he knew he was drawing farther away from his lover, often not even hearing him or losing track when John went to the shops. The surge of fear he felt when he found himself alone again in 221B, if briefly, only hardened his determination. He had to find a way out of this, no one else could be trusted to take proper care, not even Mycroft would be able to see all the threads that would finally lead them to the spider at the center of this web. And he remembered how Mycroft casually condemned John Watson to 2 years of unnecessary mourning. Sherlock could only trust himself to take the proper care this time.

 

So Sherlock was not entirely certain how many days had gone by when John interposed his body between where he sat cross legged on the coffee table and the wall of evidence and connections that he was contemplating. "Right, enough, Sherlock!" the smaller man said to him sharply. "You haven't slept for all I could see in several days and you ate bugger all for the last two. You need to take a break."

 

Sherlock gritted his teeth, didn't John understand, they were both in danger and he had to find a way to protect him. "What I need, Doctor, is more information. Time to renew my contacts with the homeless network." He went to stand and lost his balance for a moment. Fortunately John was right there bracing Sherlock against himself.

 

"Yeah, no. You aren't going out of here. I don't feel like searching for you in every alley in London." the next thing Sherlock knew he was in John's own armchair. The smell of the doctor that had become a part of the fabric wrapped him and he felt himself relax a tiny amount. He had spent many a night since his return in John's chair while the man himself had been elsewhere. Sherlock drew his knees up and pressed his forehead hard against them as the memory of those lonely nights slipped the tight control he kept on himself.

 

"Sherlock, look at me. Please just look at me." he heard John say gently. He just shook his head, his fear that this was all a hallucination boiling up from the depths of his brain. It would not be the first time.

 

He heard John sigh and was afraid that the next thing he would hear would be the door as the doctor 'went to get some air'. It had happened often enough in the years before he had left. He jumped a little when instead he felt the doctor's gentle grasp on the back of his neck. "You can't turn your brain off, can you?" He asked and Sherlock nodded just enough for it to be felt in the muscles of his neck. Any other time he would have flared into anger but he simply didn't have the energy.

 

"Thank you for telling me, love." John said with the warm approval that made Sherlock shiver in pleasure. He looked up to see the soldiers eyes looking somewhat distant with thought, then they flashed back to an unusual sharpness. He looked over Sherlock's face and form as if he were trying to diagnose him. "I think... you know, when I was overseas I had some mates that told me how on leave they had a hard time not letting go of the alertness they needed in the field. Some would....get help with it in unusual ways."

 

"Recreational scolding?" Sherlock snorted.

 

"Some of them. Others did things less intense....more about sensations and giving up control than pain." John looked down and blushed slightly, "I....tried it when you were gone. I wanted to forget....everything for just a few minutes. It didn't work but the person who was trying to help me said she thought it was my lack of trust more than anything." John looked into Sherlock's eyes, his face marked by worry but intent. "Do you trust me?"

 

"I....of course, John." Sherlock stated simply. The thought of giving control into John's hands was an appealing one. 

 

"Alright. First, I want you to put your head back down; limit the stimuli to that gorgeous brain of yours. Can you?"

 

"I...don't know John." 

 

"I have faith in you." the doctor gently pushed his head down. When Sherlock's forehead again rested on his knees John stroked his hair approvingly and he felt his breath catch with the pleasure that gave him. 

 

"Okay, before anything I'm going to give you two words; door and taxi. Door will mean that something is uncomfortable and you need me to slow down so we can figure it out. Taxi means that you need me to stop that very second and you know I will. Tell me you know I will stop." John's voice took on the cadence of an order and Sherlock felt himself relax just a bit more. He didn't have to plan or decide anything right now. John would take care of him. "Tell me you  _know_ I will  _stop!"_ he repeated in a more blatantly commanding tone.

 

"Yes." Sherlock sighed.

 

"Yes, _John_." his doctor corrected. "I want you to say my name every time so I know you are with me and not somewhere else. Say it." 

 

Sherlock writhed in the chair for just a moment. He adored when John turned into Captain Watson and to have it directed at him made all the blood rush away from his head and into his cock. "Yes, John. I know you will stop if I say the word." he would not say taxi because the last thing he wanted was for John to stop now.

 

"What's the fifth number in the Fibonacci sequence?" John asked firmly.

 

"13, John."

 

"Good, you aren't mentally compromised." he said, petting his hair in approval again. This time Sherlock moaned out right. "Now I want you to stay right here and not move. I will be in the kitchen and you will never be out of my sight. I want you to count off prime numbers to me until I say. Can you do that for me, love?"

 

"Yes John." a part of Sherlock was surprised by how safe this made him feel. John was taking control of him; limiting what he could do and say. He should hate it but it made everything so simple suddenly. He just had to do what he was told and John would take care of everything. John would take care of him.

 

Sherlock felt a gentle kiss above his ear, "That's perfect Sherlock, just right." the detective felt the warmth of his doctors praise flow over his skin like warm honey. "Now count." he was commanded.

 

"2, John. 3, John, 5, John." he said straining to hear beyond his own voice what the doctor was doing but how he was sitting made his voice echo back in his ears. So he counted, "11 John, 13 John, 73 John..." 

 

He kept counting; the prime numbers flowing from his lips along with that beloved name he could never say enough until he felt a touch on his neck, "Brilliant Sherlock," he heard, "just perfect. You can stop counting." Sherlock felt John's gentle hands push his head back up but he kept his eyes closed. The darkness felt good right now and his breath hitched as he felt John lips graze each eyelid.

 

"You anticipated me, Sherlock. Of course you would." Sherlock heard a rustle of fabric then a cloth was laid over his eyes and he felt the knot tighten on the back of his head, John taking great care in not catching any of his hair in it. "Good," he said when the scarf or whatever was firm, "is that catching anywhere."

 

"No John." Sherlock actually felt knots in his chest start to unravel. His breathing evened out as he felt a peculiar combination of relaxation and arousal take him over. It was novel, this sensation, and Sherlock drank it in ecstatically.

 

"So beautiful, perfect even." John approved. Then Sherlock felt the hard edge of a glass held to his lips, "Drink, you haven't had near as much water as you should over the past few days." Sherlock opened his mouth and felt a pang of admiration as John controlled the angle precisely so he could sip without choking. Likely the doctor had practice from when he was in the field. Yes, John was perfect at control and that made Sherlock feel safer than he had ever been.

 

John interspersed sips of water with perfectly cut cubes of cheese, meat, and fruit. Sherlock started to think about how long John must have been preparing for this before he mentioned it. Then he felt a tap to his right cheek, "You're drifting Sherlock. Tell me where you are." his voice was gentle but still firm and Sherlock could no more refuse to answer than he could stop breathing.

 

"You cut these earlier.....John." He had almost forgotten to say the name and he felt an obscure discomfort from that.

 

"I wanted to see if I could get you to relax with a movie and sneak these into you during it. I think you like this better. Do you like this better? Tell me."

 

"Yes John. This is so much better John." 

 

"Yeah, should've thought of this years ago. You just needed me to take you in hand. I won't forget now." John held another cube to Sherlock's lips and hummed in approval when he took it obediently. "I love to watch you eat anytime but I love this even more. You letting me take care of this gorgeous body for you. Thoughts a little slower now?"

 

Sherlock tensed slightly, was John going to stop? "A....little, John." he admitted hesitantly.

 

"I'm not stopping, Sherlock. I'm not going to stop until the only thought in your head is about me and what I'm doing with you. I'm going to empty that wonderful head of yours for the night, do you believe that?"

 

A surge of gratitude flowed through Sherlock, "Yes John." he said, a bit breathlessly. 

 

"Good. That's so good, my _genius_." Sherlock quivered with delight at the possessiveness in John voice and didn't even attempt to hide it. John's warm chuckles were more than reward enough. He ate a few more cubes of food then he felt John move his feet down to the floor and rub a comforting hand over his stomach. "that settling okay?"

 

"Yes," Sherlock sighed.

 

"Yes?" firmness came back into the doctor's voice at Sherlock's slip.

 

"Yes John!" he exclaimed biting his lip. 

 

"You've been doing so good, love. But none of this," he said, rubbing his thumb over Sherlock's lips. "I don't like you hurting yourself. Tell me you understand that."

 

"I understand, John." 

 

"Better." John placed a hand under Sherlock's elbow and guided him to his feet. From the changes in sound Sherlock could tell John was guiding him into their bedroom. He did not expect to be set into the chair that was in a corner of the room. "Can you stay here alone for a minute love?" he said, placing Sherlock's hands on the wooden arms of it. 

 

The idea of alone-ness made Sherlock's throat tight with panic, why did he need to be left alone? "John.....door, John!"

 

He immediately felt John strong hands on his legs, the doctor must be kneeling from the direction of his voice. "Tell me." he said, requesting rather than ordering.

 

"Why do you....why do you need to leave me alone?"

 

"Being alone scares you?" John asked without a hint of condemnation or anger; only love in his voice. That made it easier to answer.

 

"Yes, John." It was a huge relief to admit that. Sherlock couldn't believe the rush it gave him to tell this to his doctor.

 

"Okay, let me think a minute." John hands never stopped massaging Sherlock's legs, "Right, better idea. Come on." John helped him stand again and Sherlock knew they had entered the bathroom from the cold tile under his bare feet. "Sit." John said, guiding him down to the toilet seat cover. "All right, you'll be able to hear me now but I want you to count for me again, love. Binary numbers this time. Can you do that?" 

 

Sherlock sighed in relief, this was much better, "Yes John. 1 John, 10 John, 11 John, 100 John." this time Sherlock could hear so he knew John was drawing a bath. At first he thought John was going to bathe him but the rustle of fabric told him his doctor was undressing himself first.

 

"You now, Sherlock. Keep counting so I know you are here with me." John ordered. 

 

Sherlock continued, although he could hear his voice get breathy as John's fingers came near an erogenous zone or two. John didn't pause for them though and soon enough he had stepped into the tub and guided Sherlock in to sit and lay back against his chest. "Okay gorgeous you can stop counting. Do you feel this?" 

 

The slightly stiff bristles of a bath brush slid against Sherlock's arm, "Yes John."

 

"Perfect. I want you to concentrate on this feeling and keep your hands on the rim of the tub." John guided each hand into position. "Every time I pause I want you to tell me a color. Green means keep going, yellow means you want me to shift to a different area, and red means stop all together. If you let go of the rim I will also stop, take off the blindfold and we're done with this for tonight" John felt down to Sherlock's semi- hard cock, "And I want to know if you are getting close to orgasm. I want to make sure we take you completely out of your head and that means you don't come until I say so, do you understand?"

 

"Yes John."

 

"Give me a color then."

 

"Hmmm, yellow John." the brush felt nice on his arm but it would feel better elsewhere.

 

John chuckled and shifted the brush to his chest, skimming over his nipples several times. "Color?" 

 

"Uhnnnnn, green John." he moaned and was rewarded with John going over his chest with the brush again and a nip to the back of his neck. Sherlock head fell back against John's right shoulder as his back arched but he kept his hands still.

 

"You do this so well love. What is the atomic weight of Argon?"

 

"39.948." Sherlock answered instantly.

 

"Right, we've got a ways to go." John took the brush lower, down on to his legs and right at the edge of his pubic hair. 

 

"Green but.....y y yellow?" Sherlock wanted to rock his hips but John grasped his right hip and kept him in place. He cried out in frustration, 

 

"Shhhh love," John said, "All good things in their time. Right?"

 

"Yes, yes John." Sherlock groaned, his cock was fully erect now and throbbing as the brush went from teasing his nipples to his pubic hair with irregular motions.

 

"Color?" John's voice stayed remarkably calm for the erection Sherlock could feel against his back.   


 

"Green, Green John!" Sherlock cried, his whole being starting to center around the movements of that brush.

 

"The phylum of penicillin?' came the question swiftly.

 

"As..ascomycota." Sherlock said back.

 

"Right." John brushed the shaft of his erection lightly, "Color?"

 

"Green John, green, green, green." Sherlock felt the words spilling out of his mouth without control. He could only feel his hands enough to know they were still where they were supposed to be. His muscles started to tense as the brush lingered delicately on the shaft and then, lightly as a kiss, on the head. "Close, close John!" he cried out.

 

Instantly the brush was gone, discarded beside the tub, and John's firm hands were caressing his shoulders and chest but avoiding his over-sensitive nipples. He felt John kissing and nuzzling his neck while he pressed his erection into Sherlock's back. 

 

Slowly Sherlock felt his body back away from the peak but he moved his head restlessly against John's shoulder, clutching the sides of the tub to keep himself in place. "Mmmmmmm," John hummed approvingly, "couldn't keep my hands off you anymore beautiful." Sherlock twitched in a purely physical reaction at the compliment and John hummed again, "Color?" he asked as his nimble, surgeon's fingers drifted towards Sherlock's groin.

 

"Very, very green, John." Sherlock was slightly proud of remembering to add the name. His brain was starting to fog over in the best way. 

 

"Remember to tell me when you get close love." John warned. "I need to be able to trust you to know your limits or we'll have to find another way. Maybe a cock ring." He said, carefully biting Sherlock's left shoulder. "You can get all kinds of things through the internet now. But now I'd like you to trust me to know when it's time for you to come. Can you do that?"

 

"Yes, John. I trust you John." Sherlock's answer was rewarded by delicate fingertips delicately gliding up and down his cock. Sherlock shuddered but stayed absolutely still to not lose the sensation.

 

"Beautiful, beautiful." John let more of his fingers touch. "Look at yourself in my hand Sherlock. Your perfect cock right there in my hand. Look." At the last word John pulled off the blindfold and Sherlock was able to see. 

 

Instantly Sherlock curled forward as at the sight of John's perfect hand on him tripled the sensations his touch, "Close, so close, John! Please!" he cried, and shuddered as John's hand left his cock to pull him back hard against John's chest. He shuddered convulsively as John petted him back to relative calm.

 

"What animal appeared in the British Isles at the time of the black death?" John asked as Sherlock gasped and twitched.

 

"I don....I don't know. John." Sherlock uttered on a long groan, his mind filled with the need to come.

 

"Hmmmmm, time for bed I think." John said, calmly.

 

"John please, I need to come. Please, please, please." Sherlock begged without shame. 

 

"Do you need one of your swords, love?" John asked.

 

"No!" Sherlock exclaimed. His cock felt so sensitive and the tension of imminent orgasm twitched through him but his mind was blank for the first time in days. "Just....soon? Please?"

 

"Soon love, "John reassured him, "I just want you where I can see your face. I love watching your face when you let go and come. I want to see you fall apart."

 

If it had been anyone else in the world, Sherlock wouldn't be able to bear this loss of control but with John it felt as natural as breathing. He nodded his head, "Yes John."

 

"Perfect. Now get yourself up. Can you?" 

 

Sherlock nodded and hefted himself to a standing position. He wanted so so much to touch himself but he knew John wouldn't want him to so he clenched his hands into fists. John stood and gently unfolded his fingers to take hold and steady him as he got out. John took a towel and dried him, smiling approvingly every time Sherlock twitched or moaned. Last was his public area, "Hands on my shoulders love." John order and was obeyed. Sherlock's knees almost buckled at the feel of the rough texture of the towel. 

 

John put his hand in place to carefully feel Sherlock's throbbing balls, "You are so full." John said in a hushed voice, "You are going to come so much." he said, cupping them in his hands. Sherlock could only stand and pant while John carefully lifted each of his testicles to feel underneath and groaned deep in his chest when his doctors clever fingers pressed up against the space behind.

 

"Right there huh? Hold on a bit and do  _not_ come." John shifted his right arm to give Sherlock more support and rubbed firmly, the pressure stimulating Sherlock's prostate from the outside. He rocked himself on John's fingers for a moments and then cried, "Close!" it came out as a sob.

 

"That was so good Sherlock. You are so so good for me. Come on." Sherlock had his eyes near closed again, fighting against the urge to take himself in hand, as John led him to the bed and guided him down onto his back.

 

John then took his hands and put them up over his head to where he could feel the headboard, "Hold on right there, beautiful. I'm going to taste you for a bit and I want you to keep your hands right," he kissed one hand then the other, "there."

 

"John need you so much, so much. Need to come John." Sherlock knew he was babbling but simply couldn't care.

 

"You will, love I promise. Trust me?"

 

"Yes! Yes, yes."

 

"So good." John lay on the bed, one arm over Sherlock's hips holding him down. "I'm going to put my mouth on you now, Sherlock. Tell me when you are close."

 

Sherlock nodded frantically and nearly screamed when he felt the head of his cock covered by a warm wet mouth. His hips, beyond his control, bucked up but John held them firmly in place as he took more and more of the shaft into his mouth. Sherlock started babbling in every language he knew pleading and cursing all interspersed with John's name. He felt the orgasm rush to collect again in his lower stomach and practically screamed, "Close!"

 

The warmth was gone in a moment and Sherlock sobbed in frustration but John said, "Let go of the headboard and prop yourself up so you can watch me swallow your come. Right now Sherlock." He did and the wet warmth returned, suction increased around the head of his cock and somehow John managed to rub against that place behind his balls again. Sherlock watched with wide eyes the miracle of John Watson ecstatically sucking on him and staring right into his face. 

 

John allowed Sherlock just enough room to rock up against those fingers that were striking sparks deep within him. Sherlock wanted to stay like this forever so this time he fought the tightness in him for his own desire. But it was a losing battle, more and more the pressure built, tighter and tighter the coils of want twisted in his belly until, far past any words that would warn his loving tormentor, it all exploded out of him and John drank every last drop.

 

When Sherlock came back to himself, John was tenderly cleaning him of what must have been the doctor's ejaculate. Sherlock was vaguely sorry he had missed that but his head was so calm he couldn't be too very sorry. John looked at him and smiled,"Better now?"

 

"Hmmmmm, yes, much. I think I might be able to sleep now. But....stay?" he asked quietly.

 

John threw the flannel aside and sank down to wrap Sherlock in his arms and pull him over so the detective's ear was over his heart. Sherlock smiled, John knew what he needed, he should remember that. He kissed the area over that loving heart and let himself drift off. John would be there when he woke, he was sure.

 

  
  


Peace reigned at Baker street but there was little of peace across town at the Diogenes Club. Mycroft respected his mother's talents but he was in no way sure that she could bend that woman A.G.R.A. to her will. He hoped she could; but hope was a slender branch to hang the fate of his brother on. "Anthea," he said to his PA, "Would you find DI Lestrade and kindly ask him to join me for dinner. I think he would be perfectly placed as a second line defense."

 

Let his mother handle the more lethal gender. He was rather in the mood to put his trust in the one person who had welcomed his brother back with a fraternal embrace in play. Friendship and loyalty such as that could be a powerful addition to his arsenal. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've written a scene quite like this so please forgive any inaccuracies in the play. Better yet point me towards some better ideas for the future! I've always thought John was what Sherlock needed to get him out of his head when things became overwhelming.


End file.
